Harry Potter and the Next Generation: The Hat of Hero's
by Smile51
Summary: What happens after Harry Potter defeats Voldemort? New adventure of course! A new school! A new Hogwarts lifestyle! A new main character! A new generation! Leonard finds himself at Hogwarts, and something happens! What happens, you may ask! Read to find out!


**I'm back! This is my first Harry Potter fic, so I hope you enjoy it! Sorry this is so stupidly long, but it's just the prologue**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Harry Potter...but I do own this story, so anyone copying better watch out!**

– _Chapter One –_

**AVENGING THE DARK LORD**

"_The Dark Lord will be avenged!"_

The first words Burnaby Girth heard when he was born. Of course, being a newborn, he couldn't decipher the words, but as he grew older, those words became etched in his mind, almost a part of him.

Mrs. Girth gave birth to Burnaby in a wizard pub named The Leaky Cauldron. When Burnaby was born, Mr. Girth and his friends had a toast, reciting the exact words that could've led to their downfall: The Dark Lord will be avenged! Yes, Burnaby's parents and their friends were the few thousand Death Eaters that escaped the wrath of the Aurors and families of the victims of years of pain and torture.

Burnaby, in fact would follow in his parents footsteps.

When Burnaby became a year of age, he was forced to attend a Muggle preschool, as not to raise suspicions. He had his first spurt of accidental magic when he was five when fellow preschooler Brandon Tickle teased Burnaby about not being able to tie his shoelaces. Brandon's shoelaces were so knotted together after that, his parents had to use a chainsaw to sever the tightly knotted shoes. Mr. Girth was very proud of Burnaby for that one.

Burnaby even had to attend a Muggle Primary School, much to the dislike of his parents. Burnaby was so noticeable because of his flaming, uncontrollable, red hair; he became the butt of many jokes throughout his school life. Brandon Tickle (the same child who teased him when they were five) finally played his last joke on Burnaby when the latter set fire to his hair, clothes, bag and all his valuables at school. Brandon got out okay, but he'll never be five metres from Burnaby again.

Because of that incident, Brandon soon became an outcast, a person that everyone knew to stay away from. That was the way Burnaby liked it, but he found it unnerving that people were whispering behind his back and staring at him. When he finally became eleven and was allowed to leave, he left the school a going-away present. To this day, some children are still trying to find their way out of the large, floral maze.

Indeed, when he became eleven, he left his primary school (which many people were grateful of), which everyone else did, but he didn't attend any of the local high schools and nobody inhabited his house, which people concluded that the Girth family left. They became the talk of the town, rumours were spread and many people claimed to be the Girths in disguise.

In actuality, the Girths moved (or should I say flew) to northern Britain where on the exact day September the 1st, Burnaby went to a prestigious museum named the British Museum, a rather original name. Many tourists flocked there to take photographs and to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at fossilised objects, dinosaur bones, old British artefacts and inked paintings from the 18th century. But Girth wasn't carrying a camera and he was certainly not going to stare at paintings for ten hours straight. He had a leather luggage bag in his right hand, and his left was tucked in the pocket of his black coat.

Burnaby scurried inside, careful not to be sighted by the ticket people, otherwise they would be asking for money. Bowing his head, so the mob of excited people covered him, he crept quickly into the doors of the marble museum. Even Burnaby had to stop to stare in awe at the wonderful objects trapped in glass cases or the perfectly detailed paintings. Already, hundreds of familiar '_clicks_' and the short burst of light from the cameras were echoing in the large building devoted to Britain's history.

Burnaby tore his eyes away from the awesome sights, reminding himself why he was even here. _Do you want a magical education, or an education on British history? _He asked himself. Immediately, he chose the former. History at primary school was always rather annoying.

Burnaby glided along the rows of dinosaur bones, a full skeleton of a Stegosaurus named Bessie fenced by red string and encased in a very large, glass box. Burnaby resisted the urge to charm the family in front of him so that they turned into flowers, because they were chatting loudly and stopped right in front of him so that they could look at Bessie.

He moved around them, losing precious time. Grumbling, he saw a girl wearing a black and emerald robe with the letters 'EA' weaved on the front. She was talking merrily with another girl sporting the same uniform. Though they were talking slowly and happily, their pace was fast.

Burnaby raised an eyebrow and followed them, careful that they didn't see him. They twisted around rooms and they ran up stairs, Burnaby following behind. The girls leaped past the fossil room and they strutted in and out of the ancient books room. They only stopped to pause and to slow their rapid heartbeat, but they quickly started rushing away again. Eventually they slowed down their pace when they reached the art gallery.

They were looking around, studying the paintings. Burnaby had to hide behind a marble statue of a stallion when he scoffed at an ugly painting of a dead dog and the girls swivelled their heads around in his direction. Apparently, they dismissed the sound as a figment of their imagination; Burnaby was grateful for that.

Burnaby watched as the girls looked around the gallery, occasionally tapping each other's shoulder and pointing to a painting or a sculpture only for the other to shake their head. They finally stopped in front of a painting that touched the ceiling and the floor. It pictured a chubby lady in a large, vermillion dress.

When Burnaby squinted his eyes, he could see the two girls talking to the painting. Burnaby was bewildered but even more surprised when the girls walked _into _the painting. Burnaby rushed in front of the painting, and could see the two girls walking down a path in the painting. They looked like they were part of the painting but they were moving! The girls finally reached the edge of the path and blinked out of existence. Burnaby was sure this was the entrance that Mr. Girth was talking about.

The lady in the picture moved back into the position she was formerly in and then turned stationary. Burnaby stared open-mouthed at the painting.

"Er...hi? I want to, um, go to my school." Burnaby told the painting.

Everything stayed still and stationary. The lady was grinning widely with her hands to her sides. Nothing changed in the painting, and Burnaby was sure that he was still in the museum, hence the loud commotion of the tourists.

"Excuse me. I want to attend Elder Academy." Burnaby said, a bit more firmly this time.

The lady was still standing still with that irritating smile on hers.

"I want to bleeding get to my school this instant!" Burnaby yelled, capturing the attention of everyone in the art gallery. Burnaby shrugged and said, "I have, um...issues?" Everyone resumed engrossing into the specially-crafted statues and the artistic painting hung on the wall.

"No need to be rude!" The lady in the painting spat, putting both hands on her hips and frowning at him.

Burnaby was so surprised that he had to clamp his hand over his mouth so as not to alert the other tourists in here again. Burnaby gaped and stared wide-eyed as the lady huffed and shuffled over, so there was room for Burnaby to walk down the path in the painting.

"Well, some on then! You're going to miss the groupings." The lady chastised.

Very reluctantly, Burnaby's hand wavered close to the painting, and eventually moved into the painting. His hand didn't feel any different, but looked like it was drawn by chalk. Burnaby slipped his other hand in, his head and eventually leaped into the painting so his whole body was inside a painting.

"Whoa."

The field pictured was sad and lonely; no trees, fruit, animals, insects, people (other than the lady), sun or moon was in sight. The only real movement was the grass dancing in the wind. The sky was a dark shade of grey, and no stars, or anything really, lit the field up.

Barnaby felt guilty that he actually ran down the path out of the painting, wanting to get away from the dark and ominous land. Barnaby finally reached what he guessed was the end of the path, because it narrowed into a point and the land ahead of the concrete road was just blankness. So Barnaby braced himself as he leapt into blankness...

...and a heartbeat later, Burnaby appeared in front of a tall, daunting palace glinted in the night sky. It was brick-made, so it stood sturdily and proudly, and didn't look like it was going to collapse. The architecture was awkward and deformed, adding to Burnaby's queasiness.

A mob of students dressed in the same uniform as the two girls Burnaby saw before were rushing into the front doors of the palace, scrambling over each other. Burnaby tore the leather coat off, revealing his uniform, and tucked it into his luggage bag before gliding into the front doors with the other students.

The next few hours rushed by. A thin, scrawny man wrapped in a blood red coat named Professor Zeffelin guided the first graders, including Barnaby, to the front of a grand and magnificent grand hall. High above the ground, the teachers sat in seats attached to the wall. In the front, a huge stage with a grand throne and a stone fountain glimmered.

The headmaster Professor Elder, a rather mousy man, greeted the students and announced a welcoming speech to the new students of Elder Academy. The Professor droned on about the history of the school, Burnaby only catching a few words about rampaging dragons which was a very disturbing sight.

Next, Elder cited about how the 'grouping' process worked. Each first grader would slip their hands into the deep abyss that was the fountain, and the snake that slithered there would bite their palm. A number would be the repercussion of the bite, and that was the number group you were in for the rest of your time at Elder Academy.

When it was Burnaby's turn, he was terrified. It took ten minutes of coaxing from the teachers until Burnaby actually reached the stage. Carefully, Burnaby dropped his hand into the broken hole in the fountain mouth and his hand stayed there. Nothing happened for a moment, and Burnaby was afraid that he wouldn't be chosen at all, and the teachers would kick him out because of that. He was just about to ask the headmaster what was happening when a searing pain plastered onto his palm.

Burnaby immediately retracted his hand and stared at it, sure that two puncture marks of a snake would be there and blood would be gushing out in gallons. Instead, a venomous green '4' was tattooed onto his palm. The headmaster gestured for Burnaby to lift his hand so that the school could see. Burnaby complied and the rest of the school cheered and clapped, especially a round table at the edge of the room.

Burnaby made his way to the table and had the best meal of his life.

_Five years later..._

Burnaby Girth hated the rain. It was annoying and drippy, and whenever he walked in that particular weather, rain seemed to follow him wherever he went. Girth wanted to use the '_Impervius_' charm on his watch, but more rain would replace it. Even the leather, 'waterproof' coat he had gotten five years ago couldn't shield the rain from seeping onto his skin.

The jacket that Girth had used to cover his uniform when he was eleven was enchanted by his father so that it grew with him, always maintaining the exact fit as Girth himself. Girth wondered where his father was now. Probably in the 'new' Azkaban, a place where only Death Eaters were placed, no Dementors but actual guards protecting the prison. Maybe his father was still on trial? Girth doubted it.

Girth was currently running across a London road, caked by sweat and rain pouring onto him. Occasionally, he would lift the hood on his head and shake the water from his hair, because the hood wasn't actually keeping the water away.

Girth had a bag in his hand, which he held rather tightly. A few Muggles who were in their twenties gaped at Burnaby because they saw him use '_Impervius_' on his watch. Without thinking, Girth shouted, "_Obliviate!_'

They crumpled onto the wet, puddle-ridden pavement and Burnaby immediately regretted it. If he left them in the cold, they would die of hypothermia and since they wouldn't remember anything, they might've got run over by a car. Sighing, Girth Apparated him and them inside a warm and cosy house. Luckily, the owner wasn't here yet, and she or he could deal with them when they returned.

Girth Apparated again back to the rainy street, not wanting to be late for the mysterious man named Marethyus. He had promised him revenge on Ronald Weasly (who was meant to only be a father, not a tatter-teller) the man who ratted out his father to the Azkaban authorities. More hauntingly, was that Marethyus's plan was so crazy, it actually made sense. Burnaby had to retrieve a particular object from Hogwarts, and he had done it successfully, the artefact stuffed into the bag Girth was holding, no matter how much it protested.

Girth met Marethyus when the former had been crying shamelessly about his parents in Azkaban, while resting himself on a granite rock on the beach; Marethyus had crept up behind him. Girth wasn't even aware of anybody being behind him at the time, until:

"_I know your pain..._" Marethyus had hissed.

Girth had scrambled off the rock and into the tide. He then peered at the figure behind the rock. The individual wore a navy blue cloak over his entire body and only left his sapphire eyes shining. The only other distinguishable thing was his hook on his left hand, glinting in the night.

"W-What do you want?"

"_To help you..._" Marethyus whispered, the voice curling into his ears and slithering around Girth's mind. The voice was cold and it had given Girth the shivers.

"You can help me by getting away!"

Marethyus made a choking noise and it took Girth a few moments to realise he was laughing. "_Ah, but I can help you formulate your revenge on Ronald Weasly, and at the same time, I'll be making trouble for the other goody-goodies too."_

"You can help me take revenge on Weasly?" Girth asked, shocked.

"_We can take over the world..._" Marethyus said sincerely.

"How would you know all this?"

Marethyus shrugged. "I know things."

"So what's this plan?"

"_Well..._"

They had exchanged names after the conversation, which Girth was reluctant to do. Girth didn't know why he needed this..._thing _for the plan, but he complied anyway. Immediately after that, Girth hit the sudden possibility that Marethyus could be an Auror, but dismissed the thought, because Marethyus suggested an Unbreakable Vow, but since Girth wasn't good at keeping promises, he refused.

Girth had been told by Marethyus to meet him at 32 Gloria Street. Girth assumed it was a large, haunted house like they depicted in horror movies. Girth couldn't have been more wrong.

32 Gloria Street was a normal, almost too normal, abode; a garden laid there, tulips, roses and especially jasmine curled around the flower beds and the rare tree erupted from the ground. Though it was late evening, Marethyus had left the light on in the house.

Girth braced himself and then began marching into the garden. He trod on some jasmine flowers, but reassured himself that Marethyus wouldn't mind. Skipping down a brick pathway, Girth reached the front door, a tiny and insignificant door which Girth would have to hunch through if he wanted to go inside.

Girth knocked the door, and it violently swung open, Marethyus waiting 'patiently' at the door.

"You finally have it. Good on you." Girth gave Marethyus the bag, and he could see the latter's eyes going glazy.

"You have done great, Burnaby. Now wait until I contact you again so we can retrieve the next item. And, oh, never step on the jasmines again. They're my favourite."

And with that, Marethyus swung the door shut.

And at that moment, only a few hundred miles away, Leonard Walker woke happily from a dreamless sleep...

**Wow! 2,825 words!**

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